


drowning in oxygen, burning under ice.

by duelbraids



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: 'wow cass what the fuck is going on here' coping, Abuse, Depression, Eating Disorders, Gen, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts, Team Bonding, Team as Family, vent fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-09-22 09:25:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9601313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duelbraids/pseuds/duelbraids
Summary: a small examination of taako's life, in five parts. or, why taako really needs a support network (and gets one)





	1. regret and remember me not.

**Author's Note:**

> like i wrote this to vent bc its 100% easier to write my lil boy vommiting than to actually vommit, u feel? and now its spun into a big fic bc i kept getting ideas and my actual longfic isnt even in chapter 3 yet, but i got really attached to taako because i too aspire to be a beautiful, gay spellcaster, and there arent many characters with trauma relating to food.

He wasn’t always tiny. Not in a traditional, stereotypical, elf-y sense. After all, what chef did not sample their product? His aunt always told him that the bigger the chef, the better their food - so Taako had to have been a pretty good chef for his age, with a hearty amount of chubby fat on his face and stomach, on his arms and legs. Taako picked up a lot from her, including her shape; her way of speaking, her tendency to flatter, starting nearly every sentence with “look” or “listen,” and a good, too soft, pliable heart. 

Nowadays, he likes to pretend that his heart is rock solid, with no trace of soft - after all, he’d turned to a boney frame, why shouldn’t his feelings do the same?

He had only changed into what he was now, when  _ it  _ happened. He didn’t even like saying the name of  _ it,  _ even though it runs through his mind every single night. All his actions, every incantation, every single drop of his being is poured into uncovering what he did wrong, asking questions. Why didn’t he taste it first, so he could’ve died on that stage? How many nightshade berries did it take to kill someone - or was it the leaves they’d gotten to first? And Sazed only got worse.

Their semi-relationship had been tattering- to say it was simply a ‘rough patch’ was to give Sazed too much credit, too much kindness when there was none - before they’d ever set foot in Glamorsprings. He’d turned despicable, or maybe he was always like that and Taako was only just now becoming aware. For months before, he tried to edge into territory that was always considered off limits, for obvious reasons. The manager of something shouldn’t be an actor too - and what would he do with all those  _ tee shirts?  _ At least, that’s what he said, to wave the questions away, and allowed Sazed something small.

Honestly? He didn’t know how to say  _ no,  _ and he should have. A hundred times where he should’ve said no, when hands went to far, either leaving a welt or leaving him feeling exposed, degraded; a thousand times where he should have walked, found someone different. A million times where he should have stood like his aunt would’ve and proclaimed himself worthy without him, but,  _ no  _ was foreign to him back then, and even when he tried, he was brushed off, or even worse, yelled at and thrown around. And barely seconds later, it was all smiles again, sweet nothings and caressing what were still open wounds. (Never  _ open,  _ but bruising and turning dark olive skin to a purplish blue.) 

So, it did not come as a surprise, when Sazed disappeared with the stage coach, all his clothes and every memory, after a quiet night of staring at plates and pretending to eat by pushing the food around enough that it took up less of the plate, and staring at each other as if there was still some  _ fucking  _ love there. And right then and there, he shut his eyes, breathed in, opened them back up, and kept walking. He told himself that he deserved it, that his  _ thing,  _ his one something, deserved to be torn to the ground for his selfishness. 

Taako believed it for too long.

Once he’d put enough distance between himself and that town, he threw himself into magic studies, taking an old spell book and continually practicing until he was dangerous, and meditating longer than he ever needed to, waking up in a fright, and training more. He only ate when necessary, and even that was impossible to tell, after a while. A man used to food can easily tell when he’s hungry, but now he had to count the days between meals, to make sure he wasn’t pushing the limit.

As much as he wanted to die, he had an inkling of suspicion that he simply could not. It wouldn’t work, even if he tried (and he was too afraid to try.) Punishment was the most he could do for himself, but being light was better anyhow. Being as small as possible, taking up less space, wasn’t that for the best? 

Six years later, and no one had caught him in that time. Six years of fingers crammed down his throat when he went too far, binging in kindness, and having to routinely remind himself that it was dangerous to accept it. Six years of running. And then, they showed up.

The Pan-Religious and The Brick Shithouse - Taako said he hated them, but not in the same way he said he hated himself. It was not a silent, pervasive, true thing, but a laughing joke, with silly voices and staying close together because they’d lost everyone else. Closeness came at a price, though. 

* * *

Candlenights was hard for him. All the food, all the people, having to  _ bake,  _ convincing himself that he couldn’t hurt anyone if he didn’t use magic, and all the  _ eyes  _ on him. People expected him to eat what they made at the parties, and he ran to their little bathroom suite the second that things seemed to quieten down. It was a well known routine, at this point, and he barely needed to try when his fingers were so thin.

Taako avoided looking at the mirror - even though he could see his ribs and didn’t even need a binder anymore, he was still afraid of looking into it and seeing what he looks like. He wants to pretend he still is the beautiful, full of life elf he was before. 

His fingers didn’t have any taste to them, not that he could appreciate it before he started to convulse, his stomach writhing and almost begging him to just, stop. Be kind to yourself, for one night. Taako’s groans of pain and choking were louder than expected though.

Magnus rushed into everything, and that included the bathroom their reclaimer suite shared. Hiding the sound of vomiting was hard when the bathroom was only one door down from a bedroom -- Taako thought everyone was asleep; he barely had time to pretend he wasn’t trying to gag himself, to take his skinny fingers out of his mouth and pretend to have just been having a stomach ache, when the door was nearly ripped from the hinges, and Magnus was at Taako’s side.

One big hand was wrapped around his shoulder, while trying to hold his hair away from his face, and the other was rubbing his back, as if that could somehow stop what already started. Taako felt his entire perspective shift, and he wasn’t looking at anything anymore, and his throat burned, and his  ~~friend~~ coworker kept reassuring him, and called out, “Merle, get in here with some water.” a pause, and he added, “and a few crackers.”

When he was through vomiting, his acquaintances tried to get him to talk, and Taako simply brushed them off, “What can I say, it’s just been a bad night!” 

Bad few years, more like it. 

Merle, bless his old heart, put a hand on Taako’s knee, and grabbed out his Extreme Teen Bible, which was quickly waved away by Magnus, who actually began to speak, “Taako, you’re our buddy-”

“I wouldn’t say so.” Taako interjected.

“Well, you  _ are. _ ” Chimed a grumpy, old dwarf.

“Our  _ amigo, _ if you will.”

“Sayin’ it elvish, doesn’t make it better, bubula.”

“Shut up, and let us care about you.” Even grumpier this time, and he stood as if to leave.

Magnus looked  _ rather  _ annoyed at this point, and sighed, “Look, we all know that you’ve been acting weird for a long while, always around time when we eat.”

“I just thought he was a picky eater.” Merle was the master of  _ sage _ ly advice.

While Taako seemed to try and grab onto that thread, as if to make an excuse, Magnus cut him off, “You can’t keep doing this to yourself. Look at yourself.”

For the first time, Taako stood up and looked at himself in a full length mirror, for long time, and avoided his face. He looked worse than a lich, his skin greyed out to an ugly color (gods, normally he was a beautiful, warm brown, but now he just looked dead. Or like a poorly done drawing,) his hair was thinning, and he could simply pull at his hair and some would come out, and his knobby knees and elbows were more fragile than he thought - he fell back down. As gorgeous as he was, he looked empty.

Taako laughed a little, “It could be worse, my man.”

“Yeah, you could be a dead ‘my man.’” Merle seemed to be joking, but Taako thought again about how nice that would be.

“Dude, will you just eat a little? And then go to bed? Please.” Magnus seemed to be begging. “I can’t protect you if you’re a corpse.”

“A little.” He relented. 

A little was a start, though.


	2. bargaining.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> taako's friends all care Too Much

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lucretia headcanons??? denny's is a universal constant.

Internally, he knew, there would be some consequences, but Taako was not expecting constant attention as one of them. Everyone, though not suddenly, seemed to hover around him, linger for longer and try to keep eyes on him. It wasn’t like they  _ hadn’t  _ paid attention beforehand, but now he almost never had a moment alone, and when he did, it was late at night and he was exhausted; it was a pretty good kind of exhausted, if he were honest. Slipping into a trance was easy now, and though his nightmares would always be present, he more often than not, slept dreamlessly. 

It started with Angus, because  _ of course _ it did, showing up uninvited, only ten minutes after his suitemates had left, on the dot. Almost like a spooked kitten, Taako jumped up at the knock at the door, then reluctantly walking towards it, and there stood the boy genius himself, wand tucked into his belt, and a big, floppy hat (one he’d seen in Fantasy Costco, with more than ever needed on the fucking moon,) that looked similar to Taako’s, on his head. A wizard and his apprentice-type shit. 

“I’m here for my magic lesson, sir!” Angus tipped his head, and the hat almost fell off, and he went tumbling trying to stop it from hitting the ground. Taako reached out a hand to grab him, or at least prevent a collision (if asked, he would say he didn’t want his shoes scuffed by the boy’s hard head. He was, however, wearing slippers, so not the best excuse.) “What are we gonna learn today, sir?”

Taako looked him over, surveying a very excited, hopeful little boy; he then thought back to their last lesson, and decided against his better judgement, “You been working on your mage hand, right? I figured we’d work on that some more, Ango.” Said as if he actually had a plan, which Angus seemed to think he did. 

The two sat down on the rug and Angus showed what he could do - this time, his spectral hand had all fingers, though it was about the size of a ten year old’s hand, which made for grabbing the rather large, decorative vase on the table just a bit harder, and it dissipated when it touched the bookshelf. Angus deflated a little, and looked over for some form of validation, so Taako nodded his head in semi-faked pride, and they went on for a few hours like that, Angus progressing quickly for his age, and then quickly becoming frustrated when he hit a snag. 

Boy genius wasn’t used to failure, he guessed. 

Angus left when whatever artificial sunlight they had going on began to fade, and Magnus and Merle came back through the door. Merle seemed pretty indifferent if disdainful towards the situation - Magnus, however, ruffled the boys hair and, as quiet as a loud brute could be, tried to whisper a “good job, kid.”

Either Magnus was an awful sneak, or long ears made it easier for Taako to hear, but he shook his head, assuming that he was talking about the mage hand - finally fully formed, and could stand touching wooden objects for more than a few seconds. “Yeah, Agnes, you did real good.”

* * *

_ It  _ (as he was now referring to this strange phenomena) continued with Killian and Carey. They invited him on a “friend outing,” out into Neverwinter, and he realized that it was more of an “attempt to get Taako to start using actual weapons” than it was the shopping trip he expected. He followed them into several outlets, most with names like Gillian’s Gentleman’s Gaming or AD&Dis, with walls lined with weaponry and the closest thing to fashion being ugly, overly patterned workout clothes, though Killian did have to practically pull Taako from an ugly pair of spandex shorts that were “totally out of the B.O.B’s dress code.”

Carey, on the other hand, thought it would be  _ hilarious,  _ to get all three of them a matching set, up to and including shorts that, on Killian, would be less covering than a thong. “C’mon, you know Lucretia doesn’t actually care. It’s just there to keep people from going out on the job in their undies.” 

“Carey, you have a tail. It wouldn’t even fit.” Killian seems desperate to reason.

Perking up at any chance to pester, Taako adds, “I can fix that. I got a seam ripper we can use to add a tail hole.”

Two pleading sets of eyes caused Killian to, over the course of a few look throughs of the store, give in, and as Taako and Carey looked through the shirts,Taako came to the terrible realization that he would have to pick a size. Fantasy Gachapon items seemed to change with their wearer, but last he’d shopped for his own clothes was before, and he remembers picking 2XL and feeling just fine about it.

So, he shrugged and did it again. Carey and Killian were watching, and he couldn’t worry for too long. Loose clothes were fun to work out in anyways. 

Killian, either begrudgingly or full of love (maybe both,) paid for all three, mesh tank tops and shorts, and found herself also buying one of their little promotional stuffed animals, something to do with saving the rainforests and gosh, she just couldn’t resist something so soft and cuddly. 

Team Sweetflips and their plus one wandered the city, Taako eventually getting his way, and getting them to wander through the pastel pinks and bright white of Forever 121, leaving with a limited amount of new clothes - being told, “Do you really think you’re going to wear that?” when looking at a dress with a scoop neck so low that it would go to his bellybutton. 

“I’d  _ rock  _ that, excuse you.” 

Carey seemed to laugh a bit louder, and her voice echoed through the store, “But you don’t even have a boyfriend to show off to. Like, that’s the point of those dresses, right?” 

Taako faked offense, “You don’t know who I was before joining the B.O.B.”

“Yeah, we’re sure you were the most popular man in the world, everyone would fall at your feet for you to step on.” Killian had the art of eye rolling perfected by the end of this day. (Taako bought it anyways.)

They managed to leave with only  _ one  _ regular sized bag from the store, and that was only because Carey started to get hungry, and hungry Dragonborns are no fun thing to mess with. Like any proper group of ravenous idiots who needed a quick meal before Avi went to bed, they settled for Denny’s (no matter the still unused endless pasta pass.) More jokes were made about the day’s purchases, and there was little fuss when Taako only really ate his fantasy fries.

* * *

 

Of course, it had to end with Lucretia. When they were finally back from the trip, Avi smiled at Taako and noticed the bags, “Do any good shopping?” and, paused as if to let him answer, but quickly remembered, “Oh, and The Director was looking for you earlier.”

Immediately, Killian and Carey went “Oooo, you’re in  _ trouble! _ ”

To avoid being forced to  _ work out  _ for the next few days, Taako carried his bag of bought goods with him when he headed towards Madam Director’s office, stomach in knots. Had he broken any rules? Like, he was fairly certain he hadn’t done much at all the past few days. Just, talked with people and been pulled into all different types of activities. Maybe it was to congratulate him on  _ finally  _ being sociable. 

The door swung open after he knocked on it, and he noticed a pot of tea and what appeared to be macarons (maybe baked a few hours ago, still warm but not steaming,) on a decorative stand. “Sit. We need to talk about your… Habits.”

“Using my macaron recipe, ain’t you?”

The director sighs, and nods, “Yes. Now, Magnus and I have been talking,”

“Oh,  _ joy _ .”

“He’s expressed concern towards your eating… issues, let’s go with that word.” There was clear concern on Lucretia’s face too, and here he thought her incapable of anything other than stern exasperated-ness. “And to be frank, I’ve noticed too. We all have. Angus told me first, then Killian, and when I asked Johan, he thought it was ‘strange’ that he never saw you eating, and now Magnus and Merle told me what happened after the Candlenights party.” 

With more biting feeling this time, “Oh,  _ joy. _ ”

Taako realized that the silence that followed was an “I expect you to talk, or at least give me some sort of rebuttal” not a “you can go if you want to,” silence, and shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong, my man. I’ve always been like this.”

“ _ This  _ causes people to worry, Taako.  _ I’m  _ worried.” 

Dead silence, and Taako sort of  _ feels  _ the tired stare. “Do you know what I wanted to do before I learned about the grand relics, Taako?” 

“I don’t get where you’re going with this, but no, I don’t know.”

“I wanted to be a therapist. In my younger years, I’d had some… Issues of my own. Parents and expectations and yes - issues with food,” Lucretia pauses, as if to make sure Taako is paying attention, and when she notices that he seems rapt with quiet confusion, she goes on, “And I wanted to help other people, those with issues like mine. Let’s just say I… never got there.” 

Taako turns his attention to his hands, twiddling his thumbs, and he pokes out his bottom lip, at a loss of what to say. Serious situations were  _ bad  _ \- he could, after all, end up explaining exactly why he never eats if he lets himself take this to heart. “And what if I don’t want your help, miss Madam Director?”  

Lucretia shrugged, “Every one of your friends is helping, why not let someone who’s trained to do it help you too? After all, I think you can use it.”

The rest of the night, they sat in clipped conversations and ate at the macarons, sipping tea as Taako tried to gauge how much was safe to explain, before coming to the realization that  _ she already knew,  _ which made his life a million times easier. And he’d never thought his boss could be a good friend.


	3. Big, Brown, and Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> apparently there's been some Fun Things in the Fandom and honestly, as a big girl and recovering anorexic, i knew it was time to talk about how big, brown and beautiful my boy with an ED is. chapter 4 will 100% be finished tomorrow.

Recovery was a strange flux between some of the best days of his life, and the worst. There was no consistency, except for his nighttime chats with Lucretia, for Magnus checking in on him, for training with Carey, for No3113’s constant queries about his health, for Angus’s magic lessons, for chatting with Kilian at lunchtime (so, more consistency than he thought when he actually thought about it, when he cataloged his weeks.)

But he was recovering. And with recovery came the recovery of his figure, his body. Skin and bones became softer, and it wasn’t long before he was nearing what No3113 called his “natural weight.” Suddenly, those clothes he bought a few months back weren’t as loose. He certainly could wear an old dress without fear of exposing himself completely. His ethereal, feminine glow returned, his skin color deepening and recovering from its previous grey-ness. Taako was alive, like the sun, radiant. 

His friends did not change, the second he was bigger, no longer something small that did not take up space. Compliments even came, sweet comments about how he was looking better than ever, about how he carried himself - Killian commented that his posture had even improved, which seemed nigh impossible. His own brain, sure, had stinging words, but did it matter? Bad days were just bad days, recovering completely took twelve years, of course there were downswings. 

It was, overall, an incredibly freeing experience, giggling with his friends and jiggling without the sting of his own words;  after all, it’s hard to listen to your own disorders when everyone seemed to give a shit about you, and genuinely seemed to want you to recover.

There will always be something magical about being big, beautiful, and brown, surrounded by friends.


End file.
